


The Gift

by missbecky



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in New York, Steve goes to Asgard in order to help bring Loki to justice. At his meeting with Loki, however, he chooses to follow a different strategy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoAnshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoAnshi/gifts).



> This was originally written for RoAnshi, who requested Steve/Loki, and a shot at redemption for Loki. She has graciously allowed me to post it here.

"I thought you would be the one," Loki said as Steve walked in.

The door sealed itself shut behind him. The room was fairly small, and almost primitive for such an advanced culture. The walls looked to be made of black stone; they glistened faintly, some residue left over from the spell that had temporarily robbed Loki of his magic. The trickster was chained to the stone as well, two lengths of chain running from a bolt in the wall to silver manacles fastened about his wrists. It was probably meant to make Steve feel safe, but all he felt when he gazed upon those chains was disgust.

He was not afraid – although he suspected he should be. Fury and the Council had chosen him to represent Earth, and he had not argued with that decision. Both Stark and Barton had claimed that they should be the one to go, but in the end Fury had prevailed, and now here he was, somewhere on Asgard, facing Loki as the wronged party. It was his prerogative now to level charges against the accused and suggest an appropriate punishment.

"So what say you?" Loki threw the words at him, challenging him. He had been stripped of his armor and was clad in a dark green tunic and dark pants and boots. Without the trappings of a warrior, he looked surprisingly young. "What shall my punishment be for trying to claim what is rightfully mine?"

"That's not for me to decide," Steve said.

Loki made a sound of contempt. "Is that not why you are here?"

"Not really," Steve said. He had thought he might fear this moment, or that anger might overcome him and blind his judgment. Instead he felt only weary pity for Loki and what he had become. "I never really bought into that whole punishment thing."

"Ah," Loki said, nodding slightly. "Then you are here to fix me." He laughed, his scorn clear. "And that makes you a fool. So desperate to give a man another chance, to believe him redeemed."

Steve just looked at him. "Are you?" he asked. "Redeemed?"

Loki's lip lifted in a snarl. "Ask my brother. He is far more suited to answer than I."

"I'm asking you," Steve said calmly. 

Surprising him, Loki actually seemed to consider the question. "Redeemed? No. But my thoughts are clear now, and I suppose that is something."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve asked. "Are you saying the scepter worked on you, too?"

Loki grinned. "Oh, that would be rather tidy, would it not? I could throw myself on the All-Father's mercy, weep and wail and rend my clothing and cry that I knew not what I was doing." The grin fell away and now he just looked cold and calculating. "No, soldier. I knew what I was doing."

It had been too much to expect, of course. But his answer had given Steve the perfect opportunity. "Would you do it again?"

"Yes," Loki said, without hesitation. Then he stopped. Frowned.

Steve watched him silently, hardly daring to let himself hope.

Loki saw it, anyway. He snarled again, giving Steve the impression of a caged wild animal one step away from leaping forward and tearing his throat out. "You want me to say no, but that would be denying the truth. Are you so desperate to believe the lie that you would have me speak it?"

"I want you to say no and mean it," Steve said.

"You could live to be as old as me and never hear those words from my lips," Loki proclaimed loftily.

In spite of himself, he was curious. And it occurred to him that in all likelihood, it had been a long time since anyone had just _talked_ to Loki, one man to another. Not giving commands, not making promises. Just…talking. "Just how old are you?"

"I have lived for countless millennia, mortal," Loki said haughtily. "I—" He stopped as he saw Steve's raised eyebrow and obvious skepticism. Looking almost chastened, he continued in a normal, if somewhat sulky, tone. "I have lived over one thousand years."

Having already heard this from Thor, Steve was not surprised. "I can't imagine what that's like, to live so long."

"Of course you cannot," Loki said. "Your mere mortal mind cannot comprehend the passage of the years, the scope of such time. You cannot understand the slow drift of the stars overhead, the mist about the mountain Zanadu, the stately flow of the River of Crystal." He no longer sounded arrogant, Steve realized; his words were becoming more heartfelt, his eyes softening as he stared into the distance at things only he could see.

"You have not beheld the Bifrost shining in all its majesty. You have not run with your playmates and dared each other to set foot in the dark Cave of Ages. You have not gazed upon the wealth and riches of Asgard and draped yourself in all its glory." Loki faltered, and on his face was the first genuine emotion Steve had ever seen on him: regret.

"Now you will not get to do those things either," he said quietly. No matter if he remained in Asgard or was banished in exile, Loki was not part of this world anymore. His actions had branded himself a criminal, and although Steve did not know much of Asgardian justice, he did know that nothing would ever be the same for Loki.

Lightning-quick, anger flashed in those green eyes. "Should I miss the skies?" Loki fired at him, brazenly defiant. "Should I miss the wind in the trees? The puerile laughter of untried boys? The careless touch of another?"

Steve said, "Shouldn't you?"

He half-expected Loki to fly at him in a rage. Instead the other man seemed to grow smaller, his shoulders slumping. "What does it matter? No one can give me those things. They are but memories now, part of the past. And the past is lost, best forgotten."

"Not all of it," Steve said.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest. It was totally crazy and definitely stupid, what he was about to do. Loki's magic was taken and his body was chained, but he was still endowed with superhuman strength – and he was still full of bitter rage. Yet Steve could not help it. 

He felt sorry for Loki.

Worse, he identified with him now. _The past is lost._ No one knew that better than Steve Rogers. He knew the pain of living with memories only, clinging to them so tightly that his entire soul trembled with the need to hold on and not let go. He had lost the past through no fault of his own, forced into a dark sleep he had not wanted nor asked for. Loki had lost his through his own actions – but there was still a chance he might get it back, should fate prove kinder to him than it had been to Steve.

Slowly, the metaphor of the wild animal seeming very appropriate now, he approached. He raised his hand, palm out.

Loki shied back, wary mistrust in his eyes. "What are you doing, soldier?"

"You came to my world in order to take it," Steve said. "Now I have come to your world. But I bring something for you."

"And what is that?" Loki asked, one eye still on Steve's outstretched hand.

"A gift," Steve said. "A memory." And he laid his hand on the side of Loki's face.

Loki drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Beneath Steve's hand, he nearly trembled. "Why do you do this?" he whispered.

He might have answered, _Because I want to._ Or said, _Because you need it._ Instead, he stepped closer, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Loki's lips.

Loki jerked back; the chains clinked softly. It might have been a trap – and at any other time it would have been – but today it was not. Today Steve moved with him, and he let his hand slide around to cup the back of Loki's head. Not imprisoning him, not holding him with cruelty, but merely holding.

This time when he leaned in, Loki kissed him back.

There was nothing gentle about that kiss, but Steve allowed it, because he understood that Loki needed it. He breathed in searing cold and the banked ashes of magic. He tasted bitter envy and a desperate longing for that which could never be.

He let his other hand drift upward so that he had Loki's head cradled in both his hands, long black hair spilling over his skin. He flexed his fingers, kneading at the base of Loki's skull, and Loki groaned, tipping his head back, eyes closed.

Steve kissed the column of his throat. Loki's pulse fluttered beneath his lips, beating far too fast, but whether from fear or desire, Steve could not say. The chains rattled again as Loki started to raise his hands, then let them fall back to his sides.

Not in surrender, though. It was no more in Loki's nature to surrender than it was in Steve's. He captured Steve's mouth again in a violent kiss, his desperation so intense it was almost frightening. Yet Steve did not give way. He gave Loki everything of his warm breath, his mortal's sense of time, his belief in honor and justice, his need to do right by his fellow man.

Loki shuddered against him and was still. For a long moment he leaned trembling against Steve, their foreheads touching, breath mingling. Gradually the tremors eased until he merely stood there, passive and accepting.

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at Steve.

Both of Steve's hands were still tangled in Loki's hair. Gently, not wanting to hurt him, he worked his fingers free and let his hands drop back to his sides. He did not speak.

Loki gazed steadily at him.

Steve backed away. One step, then two, then another, and now he was out of range should Loki decide to make a play for him.

Loki did not attack him. He simply stood still, watching Steve. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that had been lacking before, something Steve would have liked to call humanity.

It was done. Only time would tell if it was enough.

He walked out, and the door sealed shut behind him.


End file.
